Second Chances
by HikariYagami22
Summary: Act II. Hawke hoped that time would solve her complicated relationship with Fenris, but she never thought that fateful day would come so soon, or that she would have to die in order to realize all the things she'd missed. Follow our Champion thru a journey of self-knowledge and inner reflections about life and death, and find out the value of a second chance.


**Second Chances**

_Artwork: goo. gl / gonl9 (without the spaces)_

.

They say a lot things around there.

Things about life and death, right and wrong, religion, choices, ethics ... Fancy and complex words used only to try and convince you that they're right about something. Pretty persuasive sometimes, I must admit. But believe me when I say that none of them know what they're really talking about.

It's very easy to take a romantic and idealized idea, paraphrase a few words, put in a book or poem and claim itself as an expert on the subject. And of course, there's always those who always defend these kind of people. The divergence of opinions. The  
artistic freedom.

_Bullshit._

Why am I so upset about it, you say? Simple. Very simple, really.

Let's talk a bit about _death._ Romantic, heroic, cozy, brave. Main topic of greatest epics, theme of the heroic songs of the mightiest kings, and the liberating solution to the most desperate ones.

You know the desire of most Generals and Commanders on the battlefield? _Die_ fighting for their country. And for what? To gain a big statue in some foreign city, and a posthumous title of honor. Stupid, right? You can just do your _best_ to defend your cause, and _live _to keep it safe, instead of _seeking_ for some desperate heroic deed that might never happen. Now, try to say this to them?

_"The greatest honor and glory of a warrior is to die defending his country."_

Oh, how cute. I'll put this phrase in my book, if I ever write one. Now, what you gonna do with all that honor once you're dead? Sorry, General, but glory alone won't put food on the table for your children.

Death is nothing like they say. Did any of them already die and come back to life, that they're so sure about it? I don't think so. The dead can't talk, and of that I am sure.

Death was _cold_. Lonely. Empty.

It had no light. It was no refuge. It had no _meaning_.

Of this, I am sure. I _can_ say this. I have the _right_ to allege it , because I'm already dead.

My name is Hawke. Only _Hawke._ My first name was lost forever in the ruins of a city of chains. But it's not important, really. People forget these details with time, and frankly I didn't care to be remembered at all. I didn't do anything important in my life, anyways.

I didn't protect the ones dear to me, had not fully lived my great love, written a book or even planted a tree. Now that I think about it, I really should have planted a tree. You know, they are strong creatures,splendid and centenarian. Cities are born and die with a sigh, but they persist. The wind blows, the rain falls, but as a fortress, they just stand there, resisting time and adversity as the true guardians of Nature.

Yeah. I _really_ should have planted a tree.

But my story is not about trees, or about my pathetic life. It's about _life_ itself, and how it has the power to change everything as fast as the breeze on a warm afternoon in winter.

It all started on a normal day, like any other story.

_"Hawke ..."_

This was Varric trying to wake me up. Poor dwarf, always careful with me. I loved him like a brother. He wasn't like Carver, who would wake me by smacking my head instead of this gentle shaking.I have do doubt that my brother loved me, but he loved to drive me crazy a lot more.

"Varric, _shhh _..." I remember that I'd tried to lay my fingers on his lips, but I'd ended up putting my whole hand over his face.

Strong headache, and an extreme sensibility to sounds. This was how my fateful day began. No, I wasn't sick and this was not the cause of my death. I was suffering from a simple and common problem, something that my friends called _hangover_.

"Hawke, Hawke, you slept on my bed _again_," Varric said, pulling my covers off. "You know, it's not like the sight of a beautiful half naked woman lying on my bed didn't please me, but you know how our broody _friend_ is about things like this ." He then threw the blanket back over my torso. "Sometimes a dwarf has to value his own welfare at the expense of small pleasures."

Don't get me wrong. I was not a whore, much less was I half naked. A drunk bastard had dumped ale down my shirt yesterday and I taken it off to sleep. I had another shirt beneath it - smaller and sleeveless, didn't quite cover my belly, and that's all.

To balance out the explanation, let me add another detail. This kind of situation was quite common. I always got really hammered when something went wrong - Well, which happened quite often, since everything in my life almost always ended badly - and I preferred Varric's warm bed instead of some Lowtown gutter. Don't be fooled - I may look pretty, but drunk I am as useful as a broken compass.

And whenever I woke up, Varric's bedroll was laying on the other side of his suite.

But, it matters not. This is a topic for another occasion. I remember I'd mumbled something and slept again. Varric wasn't too pushy, and I was a well of stubbornness, so It wasn't hard to tell who always won the bed.

Hours and hours later, I woke up again. It was past noon, as I was able to feel the sun burning my cheeks. I felt like I was flying, and initially I thought I was still drunk. Yet, I was comfortable and warm. It wasn't exactly _hot_ like the sun, but in my opinion, it was as intense as.

"I see you're awake."

That husky and sexy voice spoke above my head. I knew who he was, but even so I'd opened my eyes only to see the beautiful picture of Fenris carrying me on his arms. He didn't smile, even after I'd opened a toothy and lazy grin to him.

I knew very well that he was mad at me because of my pitiful state, but when his cheeks tinged pink, it was worth my headache.

"Good morning!" I said cheerfully, and then he finally gave me a slight smile.

Let me say a few things about this man.

He was known as the Lyrium ghost nearly everywhere in the city, because of his ability to shine and such, but for me, he was more like my guardian angel. My best friend.

Fenris was perhaps the sweetest and most caring person that I had _ever_ met in my entire life. There are those who disagree, but I don't give a damn. Fenris was gentle, careful and very affectionate - well, in his own very way, to be clear. He may have seemed distant sometimes, but his worried and vigilant gaze always denounced his true feelings. I know he hated it when I slept at Varric's place, but it was impossible to not do so knowing that he would always pick me up in the morning. Especially considering the fact that this basically was the only chance we had to be together.

We had a complicated relationship. That's it, _if_ we can call it a relationship at all.

Our... uh... _thing_...was almost professional - we took mercenary work in the morning, had some reading lessons in the afternoon, played wicked grace at the Hanged Man at night, and well, in none of these situations we were truly alone. He was avoiding it, as you can see. There were no conversations anymore, like late at night behind the docks, or those long afternoons drinking wine in his mansion. Yet, for me, nothing had changed at all - he was still the most important person of my life, and even with his rather impersonal stance, deep in my heart I knew that it would never change.

Lost in his green eyes, I hadn't realized that we were already within my estate - my cold and empty house.

I _hated_ that place.

I saw my mother in every shadow, heard her crying with every rustle of leaves. It was torturous. Not to mention my brother and my sister's faces appearing in every reflection of the mirrors, always corrupted and suffering.

Every time I came home, I had woke up with nightmares. Terrible ones, I must add. So, I was always in charge of more work than I could handle, just to stay away from this wicked place as long as possible, hoping to return to my bed at night so drained that I wouldn't even have the strength to think about anything.

But like I said, this story wasn't about me.

Once in my room, he gently laid me on the bed and covered me with my soft blankets, before opening the curtains to let the sun in, but not enough for the light to bother my headache. When ours eyes met, there was that watchful gaze back on his face. That look that always made me melt completely, and lose track of all my thoughts.

There was that spark shining in his eyes, the same one that had burned intensely every time our lips had touched.

I don't know what my own expression was in that moment, but he might had seen my inner turmoil reflected on my face, because the corners of his lips curved up slightly, and soon he was by my side, stroking my hair in silence.

This was always my magical chance to say how much I loved him. How important he was, or how every one of these small gestures meant the world to me, but once again, as it was every time, I kept silent.

Self-indulgence is bullshit, you know? I was afraid to _scare _him. I knew that while Danarius was alive, that blighted mage would be like a thick concrete wall between us, and I feared, more than anything, to lose Fenris forever and return to the solitude of my ghosts. You have no idea what it meant to spend those almost daily twenty minutes with this elf. It was all I had, all that was left to me.

He wasn't only my love. He was my _life._

You know, it's really awful to learn too late that certain things are meant to be said. Indeed, I bitterly regret having stayed quiet.

Back in my bed, Fenris finished his daily routine just like he always did - with a kiss on my forehead when he was convinced that I was sleeping.

I wasn't. I _never_ was.

It was my moment - _our_ moment together - and also the sweetest part of our painful ritual.

The part that illustrated how close we were to our deepest desire, and at the same time, how we were unable to realize it.

It was cruel. I had to use all my strength to not raise my head and fulfill my fondest wish. Only a few inches and a bit of courage were required for my lips to brush against his. But, as you can imagine, I didn't make it - I just laid there, wrapped in my cloak of cowardice and waited for him to leave. I waited for the front door to open and close. I waited until he finally climbed the stairs of Hightown.

I waited.

I think the problem was exactly that. _Waiting_. Sometimes it's necessary, but in general, people wait for too long. They think that time is always on their side, and no one considers that tomorrow is like a land without law, whose alleys and roads are as mysterious and unpredictable as the weather, and which change from auroras to storms as fast and as intensely as a heartbeat. And why? Self-indulgence, of course.

They say a broken heart is the essential ingredient for the birth of a great poet. Maybe that's my case. Dunno, sometimes we just need to say some truths mingled in with nonsense to camouflage our own frustrations.

Well, back to the story.

I'd spent a long time just sitting on the edge of my bed, trying not think about anything. Hard task, I must admit, especially inside my haunted house. I have no idea how much time had passed, but there was an hour between mid-afternoon and sunset, when Aveline came into my room, as blatant as a tornado. And obviously I was already hating her visit.

Don't get me wrong, she was my dear friend, and I not only liked her but also had the greatest respect for all she managed to achieve in the past few years. The point is, since she'd became captain, there was not even a single day that she didn't come into my house without bringing trouble with her, so when my eyes caught the sight of her freckled face, I was _certain_ that I would not like what I was about to hear.

"Isabela had betrayed us," she said.

See? I hate to be right.

I knew that Isabela was perfectly able to do this, but I'd never expected that she would do it to _me_.

Whatever! The further she ran, the better for me. I didn't need more shit in my life.

"The Arishok is attacking the city ..." Aveline kept talking. "He aims to kill the strongest forces in Kirkwall. I don't know his reasons, though. Take control, maybe?"

"We must hurry then. The Viscount is in danger ..." I wore my leather armor and put my twin swords on my belt while we were talking. However, when I took the first step outside my room and felt her hand stopping me, then her words finally made sense.

"He wants _you_, Hawke."

Damn Isabela. Damn her three times. She _had_ to steal the damn book. She _had_ to screw it up. She _had_ to put the _whole Qunari Compound_ against me.

But I wasn't so worried, as the situation might lead you to believe. Not yet, at least. I had tamed the Arishok once, and was hoping to do it a second time. It was _unlikely_, not impossible. What _really_ worried me was what she said next.

"I was with Fenris when we got the news. He's on his way to the docks even now."

You know that awful feeling of having the world collapsing against your head, and the ground disappearing beneath your feet? That's nothing compared to what I felt. I was so worried, so lost in my own desperation that Aveline simply disappeared in the air. I didn't know where she was anymore, what she was doing or what she might had said after that - I could only run. To find a way through the fire and chaos that could lead me to my broody elf.

Desperation is a powerful force. It could lead one through such insanity that even the hardest battles become a matter of action and reaction. I didn't know what I was doing - my body was only doing what it knew best. I simply got rid of those giant beasts as quickly as possible in order to keep running.

"Fenris, in name of the Maker, _don't do this _..."

It was all I could think about. It was my personal mantra, that I repeated over and over again with every step of my trembling legs, with every breath of my suffocating lungs and with every beat of my aching heart. All I wanted was that he would to be able hear me, at least for a second. That he would wait for me, just a little longer, just like I'd waited for him all those years. That he would not, under any circumstance, commit the folly of facing the Arishok alone.

I could feel the tears streaming down my face. I could feel the desperation clutching my chest so strongly that just to be alive was an unbearable pain. I could feel the danger lurking around my beloved, and the wait was slowly killing me inside.

I _never_ stopped running.

Even when a shock shot down my spine, warning my senses about the worst and making my legs shake, I ran. Even when my heart became aware of the imminent danger, I ran. Even when the strong, thick rain fell on me, blurring my eyes and making the stone floor slippery under my feet, I ran.

I didn't need to see it with my own eyes to know that the Lyrium ghost had shone for last time. I _felt_ it, in the deepest part of my soul. But even so, I had to be sure. I _had_ to be there.

And knowing it did not made it any easier.

Seeing Fenris lying on the ground in a pool of blood, inert as a wooden marionette, literally made my heart stop.

I screamed.

Screamed my pain to the heavens until my throat bled, and for a moment, the storm and I were one, merged as a single unit - the rain was my unending tears, and my voice its fierce thunder.

Fenris was_ dead._

I thought I would have more time with him. I thought that, like the trees, our love would persist and flourish, but life had shown me it would not. Its trunk had succumbed the Arishok's sharp axe and had fallen before my eyes, just like my knees had touched the ground.

Fenris was dead. He was my _life_, and now he was _dead_, just like all those I failed to protect.

At that moment, I died. My body was still alive, yes, but my heart had stopped and my soul filled with unbearable sorrow.

Yet, there was still one last thing that a dead woman could do.

"ARISHOK!" I screamed, utterly defeated. He was leaving with the blood of my elf still dripping down his body. By his side was a tied Isabela, sobbing apologies and begging for forgiveness with her eyes.

I couldn't have cared less.

"ARISHOK!" I screamed again, staggering back to my feet. I still had Fenris in my peripheral vision, but my eyes and swords were pointing against to that great horned bastard. "_I challenge you, Arishok!_"

"You shall have nothing, human!" Shouted one of the Qunari, but the Arishok raised a hand.

He turned to me with his usual superior stance, his face as cloudy as the sky above our heads. "Your Viscount is dead." He threw Dumar's crown on the ground, right in front of my feet. "I have the book, and the thief. I have no interest in you."

"You killed my champion!" I said in a way he would understand. He didn't know about love or friendship, only war and destruction, so be it. A formal challenge. Accepting it or not, I would throw myself against him in one way or another, and I didn't give a shit about how many of his vassals would stand on my way - my body would not fall until he lie dead under my feet. "And for that, I'll kill you!"

"Your champion challenged and died." He took his weapons from his back. "And you shall not succeed where he failed."

A semi-circle opened around us. In his hands, a huge sword and an brutal axe. In mine, two swords that compared to his were like two wooden sticks. But like I said, I didn't give a damn about it.

If my love for Fenris had led me here, then it would guide my blade to the heart of the beast.

Let me tell you something I believe, and not only witnessed, but experienced that day.

Few are the forces stronger than a broken heart. For me, there was only one, and that was love itself. The Arishok had none of them - he only knew about his stupid Qun, about force, and about war.

And you know what? The Arishok couldn't stop me, because in that moment, I had _both _of them.

The duel was fast, but no less intense. We ran and slammed against each other, like two powerful lightning bolts crashing against each other in the eye of a hurricane.

I was not stupid. He would cut me in a half if I tried to block his sword, so I did what I did best: being a rogue.

I threw myself on the ground, using the rain-soaked pavement to slide under his legs and cut the tendons of his knees. Even in pain, he turned around as fast as it took for me to stand, and the next move was decisive.

That duel had changed my life forever.

He turned his body quickly, ready to attack with his two weapons held over his head. When his two guillotines came down, two things had happened: First, my left hand was severed, and second, my shoulder stopped his axe. And you know why I was still standing in one piece?

My sword was stuck in his heart, draining his life force once and for all.

He fell over my feet like a sack of potatoes, and his weapons fell hard to the ground, one on either side of me. In my torso laid a broken shoulder, and in my consciousness, the feeling of revenge - the only thing stronger than my dread - was finally vanishing, as well as the blood from my body.

I turned, looking menacingly at the remaining Qunari. They wouldn't fight back, of that I was sure - the shock of lost their leader was humiliating enough for them to run back to wherever they'd come from.

_I killed the Arishok_. None of them would dare to challenge me again.

My pride, however, had only allowed me to stand for long enough to see their painted backs fleeing. All the intense emotions, the shock of the amputation and excessive loss of blood just threw me on the ground before I could breath a second time.

My body was dying.

I saw the rain drops falling into the red puddles slowly, rippling the surfaces. I'd heard hurried footsteps around me, making a noise greater than my weak ears were able to identify. I felt the warmth invading my body as my muscles went numb and my eyes closed very slowly.

The last thing I saw was Fenris' back, his armor cracked, while the rain washed the blood from his white hair.

And this is why I said that people don't know what they're talking about. Death is not peaceful, far from it.

It's chaotic, disturbing, full of pain and awful sensations. It was empty and lonely, with no significant meaning. That's what I thought.

And there was a good chance that I was right - after all, I died twice in that cursed day. But I could not be sure of anything, because that was not the last time that I'd closed my eyes.

I wandered through the nothing for what seemed like years, but the strangest thing was that I couldn't be sure if I was really dead or not. It was if I was in the Void, wandering thought a white desert without purpose or direction. I felt nothing, only emptiness. And, the more time passed, the more I surrendered to that state of fatal apathy, growing ever closer to becoming one with oblivion. And when I thought that I was forever lost, something extraordinary happened to me, breaking this meaningless routine, and messing with the regent order of that strange place.

I had a vision of Fenris calling my name, smiling at me.

"Hawke ..."

At first it was like an occasional vague dream, but then it became more frequent. And I felt good, you know? It was warm and cozy, just like his hugs usually were. It was keeping me from blacking out, and I began to cling to that feeling, not only because it was the highest point of my existence, but because it gave me hope. What I hoped for, I don't know, but I caught myself longing for that sensation.

It did me good.

That was my situation, and although I had never formed proper thoughts while my soul was wandering, I was resigned that I was dead.

So you can imagine my surprise when I smelled beer that morning. The dead don't breathe, so I couldn't be smelling alcohol. Maybe it was my imagination, because the only thing that had been different in the emptiness was that little delirium with my elf, and nothing else.

Since the smell stayed strong for a long, long time, despite all the pain, I dared to open my eyes.

At first I thought I was back in my estate, but it was too noisy to be a haunted place, and too clean to be Anders' clinic. When my eyes fell on my little dwarf brother lying on a bedroll beside the bed, a smile crossed my lips.

Of course he would keep me away from that house. He knew me well.

"V-va...rri... c .." My dry lips whispered, and as if someone had poked his back with a fork, the dwarf stood in one leap. His tired eyes had dark circles under them, and were staring at me in shock, while he ran his hand through his beard. Yes, _beard, _you'd heard it right.

I didn't know what in the Void had happened, but he had a wild beard covering his whole face. His hair was longer, too. _Maker_...

"Hawke... Oh my ... by the ancestors, _Hawke_!" He was soon beside me with teary eyes and a smile on his face.

I smiled back, and after giving me some water and a bear hug, he began to answer each of my silent questions.

"When Aveline realized what you were planning to do, she used the shortcut from your house to get to Blondie at his clinic. It didn't take long to find your trail of destruction and follow you. You know, there's only a few people that can kill a bunch of Qunari. And since the mages are stuck in the Gallows, that left only us, hehe." He smiled.

Gradually I remembered what had happened, and my fingers automatically fell on the stump that was once my left hand.

I was scared, hell yes I was, but my brain hadn't clicked yet, especially because in my head, I still felt my hand there, so I chose to ignore the desperation as far as I could.

"We couldn't save your hand, Hawke. Forgive me." His sad eyes were heartbreaking. I just shook my head in response. It was not his fault, but the Arishok's. That bastard was dead, and that was what mattered. As for the rest.. Well, I would have to think about something. "I didn't even know if we would manage to save you! You've been sleeping for a whole month!"

A month? Wow...

"Now they call you _Champion._ You even have your own statue, hehe."

"They...I... what?" I was speaking a little better, but still groggy. There was too much information to assimilate at once.

"You had saved the city. Meredith had to recognize your deeds in order to keep her good image." He laughed. "Not that she cares about her image at all, but truth be told, she probably only did it because she didn't believe you would recover. But we ... We never gave up on you. Even against all odds, you remained alive, Hawke. And while you breathed, we hoped."

I thought I had spent all my tears with Fenris, but after hearing such emotion in Varric's words, a lone tear rolled down my cheek.

_Fenris_...

"What did you ..." I began, but the words died in my throat. It was very hard to keep neutral with this suffocating pain clutching my guts, but even so, I needed to know. "What did you do with Fenris?"

"What have we done? Hah, Hawke! Thanks to you, we had found him in time. If we were a second later..." He smiled. "Blondie outdid himself this time."

"In... time?" I stammered, not believing what he had just said. I didn't wish to feed my heart with false hope - Fenris was _dead_, I saw his inert figure collapsed over so much blood and so beaten that any normal person would have died from such wounds. I would never forgive Varric for playing with my feelings that way. It would...

"Hawke ...?"

Then, there it was. That sexy, husky voice calling my name, sending a thrill of chills all over my body, head to toe and back again. No words are accurate enough to describe what I felt when my eyes caught sight of Fenris standing in the door frame.

To keep it short, I could say the world suddenly had become a better place, and finally started to spin again.

He was standing with both hands on the wooden frame, wearing grey linen trousers and a white blouse, whose buttons were completely opened, perfectly showing the extensive and thick scar on his stomach, which crossed his torso to his neck, through the lines of Lyrium in his chest.

I didn't know if I should laugh, cry, scream, try to get out of bed and risk falling, hit my head and die or if I should do a bit of everything. All I knew was that I felt _alive_ again, and also completely unable to say a single word.

While I processed everything - and so did he, since the lack of reaction was mutual - Varric took the opportunity to add a small comment before leaving, which not only had fueled my smile but also pulled the trigger to bring everything together.

"He never left your side. _Not_ _even_ _once_." The dwarf blinked.

So it was Fenris' voice I'd heard calling me in Fade. It was his touch that I felt when that welcoming warmth enveloped my soul. It was his love that gave me hope when I had none, reminding my body that it still had a reason to fight.

Fenris was the one that kept my heart pounding the whole time.

I didn't think twice and reached out for him. Maybe he was waiting for an invitation, because it didn't take long until he finally find his way to my side, sitting on the edge of the bed. His green eyes were staring at me so intensely, so filled with restrained emotions that I knew what I had to do. My resolution was clearer than it had ever been.

Remember I said that love was, for me, the greatest force in the universe? So, I was weaker than I ever was, but even so, I found the strength to raise my hand to his neck, burying my fingers in his hair to pull him to me until my lips could touch his.

I didn't give a damn if he would be afraid, or if Danarius was still between us - I would break that concrete wall with my teeth if necessary. I had waited for too long to express my feelings, and I wouldn't waste any more time without saying how much I loved this man.

The Arishok's axe may have cut the trunk of our tree, but from the branches that had perished, a seed had survived, and it had everything needed to grow up beautifully and healthy, stronger than ever. And this time, it would persist, because I was willing to _dedicate_ _my_ _life_ to protect it.

It was my second chance, and I wouldn't waste it, not even for a second.

When I felt the warm tongue of Fenris brushing my lips, hungry to return the kiss, I felt truly happy. Although I had lost a hand, I felt whole again.

"Hawke?" He broke the kiss after a while, pressing his forehead to mine. "Are you crying?"

"_Relief_, Fenris." I laid my hand on his face, and a smile crossed my lips when I felt him surrender to my touch. "I thought I had lost you ..."

"And I, you." He whispered in a low, heavy voice, suddenly somber."I'm sorry."

I didn't care anymore about what had happened between us in the past. Everything seemed stupidly irrelevant, and I was willing to show it to him when I noticed something that kept me from joining our lips once more. His gaze would not meet my eyes and his hand was laying over my left arm.

His guilt made me finally realize what had happened to me, but I wasn't willing to let the despair emerge. He shouldn't see me like this, not when I knew, from the bottom of my heart, that I would do everything again, if necessary.

"Hey, it wasn't your fault ..." I said sincerely. I didn't blame him for anything, and he should not feel that way.

We were alive. We were fine. The rest was just a minor detail amidst all those blessings.

"If I hadn't went by myself ... I was afraid he would find you first, I -"

"Shhh." I laid two fingers on his lips to shut him up. "It'll be okay."

"_Okay_?" He held my hand, putting it firmly against his chest. "You cannot even _hold_ your swords anymore, Hawke!" His despair was almost palpable. "Don't try to convince me that everything is _okay_, because it is _not_!"

"We'll find a way to overcome what happened. Promise." I assured him, holding his hand. I wanted him to feel that I meant it, that I was telling him the truth. And, most importantly, I wanted to wipe that sad look off his face. "About my hand... There must be some alternative somewhere, and we will find it when we least expect..."

"Ah, but I was hoping you would say that!" Varric said, opening the door suddenly and making us both jump. There were suds on his chin, but most of his strange beard had disappeared.

"You were spying on me, dwarf?" I asked, wiping my tears.

"It's not _spying_ when you're in your own room. Moreover," He went to his desk and searched for something between his books. "You never know when _something_ may happen..."

"You pervert..." I joked, curious about his sudden rush.

"Pervert? No, just a humble storyteller." He pulled a small notebook from under a pile of books. "What? It's all on behalf of the story!"

"Yeah, right." I was feeling adventurous enough to move, so I moved a little bit to the side so Fenris could sit next to me. So he did, putting his arm around my shoulders. "What is this?"

"_This_," He shook his notebook before our eyes. "It's the alternative that you seek." He placed the object in my hand. "A true masterpiece, after Bianca, of course." He blinked, putting his hand on the book to prevent me from opening it. "But first, I suggest we spread the news. Besides making our little gang happy, it would be very good to rub your good health in Meredith's nose, hehe."

* * *

Good? Nope, It was _wonderful_.

The nobles were keen to organize a small social party to officially nominate me as the Champion of Kirkwall, and guess what? _Meredith_ did the honors. Wow, she was so mad with rage that she was gone soon after the coronation. She would kill me if she could, I'm sure of that. Perhaps that's precisely_ why_ she had left early - to not fall into temptation.

You know, now I had a very curious nickname on city streets.

The Iron-Hand Champion.

It was not like the accident had turned me on harsh handsman or something, don't worry. I must admit this reputation of mine sometimes come in handy, but truth be told, my new unofficial title came from something a little more _literal_.

Now I had a silver prothesis on my left hand, padded inside and tied all the way up my arm by long leather straps. It was even comfortable - after the second month you get the hang of it. And you know what?

It was designed especially for me by my beloved dwarf. Throughout the month I was unconscious, he'd engaged blood and soul in the development of my prosthetic hand. You could see his commitment reflected in his notebook, which had pages and pages of meticulous schemes of construction with tons of details, including a removable blade in front and a dock full of locks to put my sword in. There's even a friendly hook, to drink my ale while I played wicked grace.

All he needed was a skilled blacksmith to follow his plan and someone to provide him with the material.

You know how Varric is, right? After spending more than five years with him you realize how _persuasive _he could be.

Even today, almost two years later, he still took care of any adjustments that are sometimes needed, personally.

May the Maker always protect him.

However, it was not always a bed of roses. I had my moments of weakness more than once, when I woke up scared in the middle of the night and left the room on tiptoe to cry alone, hidden from Fenris.

It was selfish to care so much about my hand while Fenris was lying right in the next room, alive and well, but I couldn't avoid it. Sometimes it was painful to know that part of me was gone forever, so much that it even _hurts_, as if it were still there.

Obviously Fenris had discovered my breakdowns one night, and I ended up confessing everything to him. It was good, to be honest, because then he helped me to ease my pain, just like I had helped him to work with his nightmares. What was supposed to be a storm in our lives, ended up serving to unite us even more.

_In joy and in sorrow,_ as they say.

Today the phantom limb almost doesn't bother me anymore. Both physical and mental pain were gone. I was still a bit angry with Isabela, but as far as I know, she left soon after she knew about my physical condition. I didn't care, I never saw her after that. But that was not important. Despite having a lot of _me_ in all of this, this story is not about me.

It's about _second chances_.

A second chance is like redemption - it doesn't serve to erase the worst of our lives, the mistakes or the tragedies, but it gives us the freedom needed to start over. It's an opportunity to take back something that could have been forever lost and do something better with it - be it to those around you, your loved ones, or to yourself. It's the chance to be a better person, learning from your mistakes and ensuring that they won't happen again.

A second chance is how life shows us how unstable and unpredictable it is, and how little we actually know about anything. It's not something we can explain, or that we deserve, it just _happens_. Not with everyone, and sometimes not even with the right people, but that's how it works: an effect without a cause.

I was lucky enough to gain one. I know I did nothing to deserve it, but even so it still happened, and I was sure of one thing: I would do everything to be worthy of this gift from now on, tossing my fears aside and fully living my life, always working for our happiness.

That was where my story truly began. Forgive me, though, but, that's a conversation for another time.

I have a certain shirtless elf lying on my bed right now, and we both know that I already made him wait for too long.

* * *

_A/N: Four years ago, July 1st, I got my second chance. All I can say is that I'm trully grateful about it, because there's no better word to properly express my feelings. This piece was written with one person in mind, the one that I had nearly lost that day, but that thankfully is alive and well, being just the best man someone could ask for. _

_Rohh, thank you for being so strong and for never give up. I love you :) _

_Credits to Wintryone for the awesome beta. Thanks, my friend! _

_Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you have time. I would love to hear your thoughts! :)_


End file.
